


We'll Meet Again

by Broba



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can never resist a British prompt you know, and this one tickled me- a WWII spy story. Why not? So that's what I did. Another one that ended when a sufficient amount had been done, though I could have gone a lot further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Singapore had been a fun time, but times change. Captain Vantas knew when the time to leave town had come at last. The Kanto army was massing for war, and it was only a matter of time before reinforcements were drawn into the Pacific theatre and, despite the insistence of the diplomatic consul that Singapore was an impregnable fortress, Vantas believed personally that the worst place to be in a siege was inside the fort.  
  
In the end he had been quite right. Vantas left in the Autum, and before Christmas the bombers were flying out of the Japanese base in Thu Dau Mot to bomb the city. The fall of Singapore would only come later, but the first warning shots were fired and it was time to be away. Vantas was certainly no coward, but he knew that the best use he could render to the British Empire was in no way on the front lines. Even though he had already left, he received word of his orders while overnighting in Johor. Vantas noted with satisfaction that he was recalled immediately to London, using whatever means necessary to get there. The government was recalling key assets from around the empire as the war turned from squabble to all-out shooting match. Well, that suited Vantas fine. He had left friends behind in Singapore, and any chance to hit back was welcome.  
  
Vantas took the train, travelling through Indochina toward the West. At Ankara he would then be able to cross into Europe proper. The great powers had not lain dormant since the outbreak of war however. The Germans had their own assets spread throughout the world, the remnants of Austro-Hungarian power were now also under their control and they had networks to call on too. It was steaming out of Ankara central station on the famed Karesi Express to Izmir in Anatolia that Vantas first fell into their net.  
  
He saw them coming all the way from the end of the dining carriage, where he was enjoying an entirely adequate warm vichyssoise. He cursed his choice of meal inwardly- he had picked the one item on the menu which was not eaten with a knife. The two of them shouldered their way towards him past a protesting Turk waiter. Vantas wiped his lips discreetly on a napkin and gently neatened his moustaches. As the men approached he showed no outward sign of concern, and was sure to lay his palms flat on the table so as not to arouse alarm.  
  
"Meine herre," the first intoned. He was thick, dense and blond- and very German. "Wie est Ihr enfgultiger Berimmungsort?" There was a fractional pause before, "bitte?"  
"Das ist meine Geschaft, herren," he replied smoothly with a nod.  
  
The other German, who had been silent heretofore, calmly reached into the pocket of his raincoat and produced his credentials, laying a small card-wallet on the table before Vantas.  
  
"Gestapo?"  
"You are surprised, Mister Vantas?" Replied the man, before miming a sense of surprise, gently tapping his palm to his forehead, "Ah, my manners! I mean to say, Captain Vantas of the British Army. Es tut mir leid."  
"You realise," said Vantas slowly, "that Turkey remains neutral territory at this time."  
"A minor diplomatic point. One which will, I assure, be rectified in good time. Neutrality is a wonderful word Captain Vantas, but not a magical one. You are afforded no special protection."  
"I see. That is how it is, hey fellows?"  
"That is how it is, yes."  
"Then perhaps I might be permitted, one drink?"  
  
They looked at each other. The talkative one was obviously in charge, the other was his muscle. All very civilised and German. They looked at each other, but what could they do? Deny the doomed man a drink? That was hardly cricket. Vantas raised an immaculately manicured finger and attracted the attention of the waiter, before ordering a single shot of whiskey. The country may have been, largely, Muslim but allowances were made for foreigners. The two Gestapo stood back, allowing him this indulgence. A drink was bought. By this time, the talk of the carriage had stilled somewhat and faces were turned to look at him. The feeling was spreading, that something out of the ordinary was now transpiring. Vantas raised his glass and looked to the smaller man.  
  
"What shall we drink to? Peace?"  
"I prefer, to victory."  
"Well in that case," Vantas stood up and looked around him with a wide smile, holding his glass aloft, "Kamal Mustapha Ataturk!"  
  
The roar went up. Every jack-tar of them was on his feet and fists beat the air. They called it back to him, "Ataturk! Ataturk!"  
  
The reaction had been sudden and unexpected, except by Vantas. He tossed the drink into the face of the one he was already thinking of as "Herr Grosse"  and he stabbed the outstretched fingers of his other hand at the throat of "Herr Kleine."  
  
Vantas only had moments to act, and he certainly had not expected to get away with such a ploy without receiving a few lumps himself. The big one was only blinded for a moment and caught him a right cross about the jaw that near twisted his head off but by now it was clear to the passengers that the fight was between a man who would stand up and drink to Ataturk and others- outsiders- who wanted to put him down. It was no surprise that Herr Gross was beat across the temple by a tea kettle, though the fact it was wielded by an octogenarian woman in a black shift dress did raise an eyebrow or two. Vantas gained the upper hand and ran, there was no hope of actually controlling this situation, only of extricating himself from it. He darted out of the door separating the carriage from the space inbetween carriages, and on the way he made sure to wrench the emergency cord which threw the entire train into disarray. When the Gestapo chased after him, they found only a door wide open leading into a black rectangle of Turkish night. Cursing, they leapt after him into the dark.  
  
In the next carriage along, Vantas turned from the voluminous newspaper he was hiding behind and looked out of the window at the retreating backs of the Germans. He waved jauntily and grinned.  
  
"Sorry chaps, better luck next train."


	2. Chapter 2

Vantas made his way easily from Izmir to Athens and from there to Saloniki. He found himself moving against a flow of immigrants travelling in the other direction; Muslims into still newly independent Turkey, and Jews of the Sephardim headed for Palestine. Not knowing exactly what he was getting into, he made a habit on the Ionian crossing of buying tea and sandwiches for families huddled against the boat rails, and picking up what gossip he could. Metaxis was still in control in Greece, and he was resisting the entreaties of Mussolini and Hitler. War would surely come soon. Even though the Ethniki Enosis Ellados had been formally outlawed and were no longer harassing the Sephardi, they had clearly had enough after the great fire of '17, the seizure of what little property remained and the gradual deliberate Hellenization of the old Jewish quarter. Palestine was their hope now, but Vantas only hoped enough radicals remained in Saloniki to help him make contact with the underground.  
  
He arrived in the old town at sunset, which suited him fine. The place was tense, where once there would have been lights and gaiety the town was still and reserved. He made his way through the deadened old quarter. Here and there, doors had been scorched and windows broken. He saw the occasional marking of a six-pointed star daubed on a door, hastily and inelegantly whitewashed.  
  
He was not wandering without purpose however. He had one contact in this city- if indeed he was still remembered there. If indeed his contact had not moved on, which would have been understandable. Even if he was even still alive. Vantas didn't want to think about that. He came to a broad, low building- an old-style taberna with a separate old fashioned stone cistern to the side, surmounted by log and tile roofing. Curving over the wide doorway was painted "το θαλασσινό αεράκι" and Vantas smiled. The sea breeze, indeed.  
  
He shouldered his way through the door and entered a low ceilinged taproom with muted lanterns, the place was filled with drinkers but the conversation was as downbeat as the lighting. Eyes turned to him all across the room and there was a dull wooden scrape as the occasional chair was pushed back, men shifted position to watch the newcomer. He was certain that most of them would be armed, too. He strode across the floorboards and threw open his coat, loosening his scarf and removing his hat. At a table toward the back of the room, in an alcove formed by a rough brick archway set against the wall a man in a shabby white linen suit held court. His table was surrounded by various supplicants, hangers-on and beggars of favour, whom he brushed away dismissively as soon as he saw Vantas. He steepled his fingers and looked up at the captain over the steel rims of his spectacles.  
  
"Well of all the cheap raki joints in all the towns in all the world, you just had to walk into mine."  
"Hello, John."  
  
At the direction of John a flunky hurriedly drew a bead curtain across the archway, effectively sealing their little alcove off from view while allowing them to look out into the room. John lit up a cigarette and offered one to Vantas, it was a harsh Turk blend but he took one gratefully as he had run out of his own some time around Athens. He let John light him with a match and settled back in his chair, watching the American coolly through a blue fug of smoke.  
  
"Well old chap, aren't you going to ask a fellow how he's doing?"  
"Something tells me I'd be safer not knowing."  
"Come John, is that any to act to an old," he paused, fractionally, microscopically, choosing a word, "friend?"  
"Now see here Vantas, the past is what it is, and it might buy you walking in here without being tossed right out on your English ear, and it might buy you a drink or two and a cigarette, but it sure doesn't get you anything more out of me. Whatever you were going to ask for you can forget it."  
"I don't suppose I can appeal to your sense of democracy, and patriotism?"  
"Sure you can Vantas, go ahead and appeal, you're an appealing guy. But I'm done sticking my neck out and you can take that to the bank!"  
"Maybe you just need to hear the right offer,"  
"If you had anything to offer me you'd have laid it out on the table for me nice and sweet. But here we are, looking at an empty table cloth and cracking wise like it ain't a big pile of nothing between us."  
"When did you get so cynical, John?"  
"The first time you told me you'd be back in ten minutes."  
"It'd hurt a chap to hear it if I didn't know you had a heart of gold"  
"Oh sure I do, and I'm very much interested in keeping my twenty-four-carat ticker ticking so I'll thank you to finish up your drink and get back to your business- and leave me to mine."  
  
Vantas coughed quietly and sipped his raki. The drink was powerful enough to make his moustaches curl so he was cautious. He remembered nights when John would rambunctuously announce that they were going to kill a bottle of it between them, and they would be drinking till dawn struggling to down the dratted stuff. Nights when they felt like nothing else in the world mattered, nights when they could make up new rules that only mattered for those few hours before the next day and the world coming back into focus. Something of the melancholy must have shown on his face because John was speaking again.  
  
"So how is the outside world?"  
"Don't you have rather good contacts all around? You used to be quite well informed about everything going on."  
"I'm not Uncle Sam's sweet little nephew any more, so I don't get to hear all the juicy things I once did."  
"Even if you wanted nothing to do with me, I didn't think you'd bow out of the trade entirely."  
"I had to bow out- and don't let it go to your head but maybe you had a large part to play in it. I just don't have what it takes to keep on doing things that way. Too much of it didn't sit right with me. It might surprise you to learn I quite like running a quiet little bar and keeping my head down."  
"John, take it from me, keeping your head down only works for so long- you can't stay out of what's going on forever. The war will come here too."  
"Greece is sticking out of this one, looks like. Maybe I'll stick out of it too this isn't my fight."  
"Neutrality," he smiled thinly, "is a wonderful word John, but not a magical one. You don't have any special protection here."  
  
John mulled that one over, and necked fully half a glass of raki with barely a shudder. He had been about to answer when the doors burst open and there was a ruckus from the main room. People were shouting in Greek and footsteps stamped back and forth. The flunky from before stuck his head through the bead curtain and hissed something at John fearfully. Vantas couldn't quite catch it, his knowledge of Greek was enough to get him by but he had no chance when it came to whispered arguing.  
  
"John, what is it," he asked suspiciously.  
"Someone's coming. I'll ask you this once Vantas, who's after you?"  
"Certainly Gestapo, possible local units as well. No one tracked me here but I think I may have been seen as far as Athens."  
"Well that just tears it. I'm supposed to be out of this game and I intend on staying out, you hear?"  
"I hear you, John."  
  
John nodded to his man who made a resigned gesture and ducked out. Moments later a girl was pushed unceremoniously though the curtain, she darted immediately to John's side and sat down, speaking in rapid Greek to fast to follow. Her hair was cut shorter then the fashion of the time, cut with some skill too, and Vantas noticed other little details about her. The glasses were tinted red and probably Italian from the style, her raincoat too was a little better cut then average, not cheap. John was trying his best to hush her and Vantas remained quiet, waiting for it to play out. Eventually John physically pressed a finger to her lips and glared.  
  
"Vantas, this is Terezi, she likes to bleed me dry from time to time and generally make a nuisance of herself. As usual she's here to demand yet another favour, I suppose the two of you would get along famously you could spend all night being unreasonable at each other." The girl started again until John stopped her saying, "in English! I'm not going to translate for you."  
  
The girl gave Vantas a sideways look, unreadable through the glasses which were practically opaque. She was obviously wondering who Vantas was to John, that he rated a courtesy.  
  
"John, please, I need your help in this," she said slowly in a thick accent, "they are closing in on me every day, I don't have more then a week at best and I'm cut off here, I have no one else to turn to."  
  
Vantas raised an eyebrow at that and John groaned.  
  
"Story of my life," John said, "help a stray cat out once and they just keep coming back for more. I told Vantas I was out, and that goes double for you."  
  
Terezi shrugged at Vantas, "Have you had any more luck?"  
"I'm afraid not my dear, our John is quite determined that the fate of two little people doesn't add up to a great deal in this world."  
  
John groaned and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes, before lighting another of his Turkish cigarettes. "This isn't fair you know. A guy could get to feeling like people are all ganging up on him."  
  
Vantas smiled warmly at Terezi and inclined his head, "Let us introduce ourselves properly. I am Captain Karkat Vantas, her Majesty's armed forces. Currently trying to get into Allied Europe, if the blasted Gestapo would stop being such a bother."  
"Thank you captain. Terezi Pyrope, I was associated with the anti-fascists when the EEE was charging around burning out Jews. I don't have many friends left here though, and I need to get out just like you."  
"Forgive me for saying, you're Sephardim aren't you?"  
  
Terezi looked surprised at that, and bobbed her head. "Yes, my family were from Spain originally. I still have relatives there, though they aren't doing much better under Franco. Does it bother you to sit with a Jew?"  
"Hardly, they say war makes strange bedfellows, don't they? And I've had to keep some rather strange ones myself here and there." He resisted the urge to glance at John, who was just looking stonily at his drink. "Let us just say that I share with the Jews a need to keep my business out of the concerns of the authorities, mm?"  
  
Terezi smiled thinly at that. John just chuckled softly. "You don't know the half of it, Vantas. Go ahead and tell him what else you are." He drew from his cigarette and stared at Terezi in amusement. She flushed slightly.  
"I'm not ashamed of it if that's what you mean!"  
Vantas coughed and patted her arm, "Ashamed of what exactly, if I might be so bold?"  
"I'm also," she paused and glanced around briefly.  
John cut her off, "She's a communist."  
"Ah, I see. Quite so," Vantas clucked his tongue, "well here's to the workers, and all that."  
"You see why I have to leave," she said softly, "the fighting with the fascists is getting worse, and we're not going to win here."  
"I thought you had historical inevitability on your side?" Vantas replied wryly, he looked amused.  
"You have read Marx?"  
"I like to read a book whenever I travel."  
  
Terezi looked at him as though he had just started shining and grinned, Vantas now knew what it was he had recognised in her- she was a revolutionary, a true believer. One of those justice-for-all types, dangerous. They both looked at John now, meaningfully.  
  
"Now you're both trying to get me killed?" He smirked and downed the last of his raki.  
"Come on old chap, this place isn't going to get any more healthy for you then us. They've already started chasing the Jews out, it's only a matter of time before they see you as a dangerous foreigner."  
"He is right," said Terezi softly, "sooner or later they'll want you too."  
"Looks like I'm facing English charm on one side and historical inevitability on the other," John coughed softly and smiled, "well who am I to argue with all that? Look you can both stay the night and in the morning... well in the morning we'll just see. Maybe I still have a couple of tricks up my sleeve left to play."  
  
Vantas just wanted to reach over and hug him, he contented himself with stroking a finger along his moustache approvingly. "Good show, that's a sort."  
  
Terezi was not so inhibited, and wrapped her arms around John in a rough hug.  
  
The morning would come all too soon and as it turned out, the decision would be made for them when the fascists came knocking.


End file.
